A Time For Joshua
by Regency
Summary: Her country needs her, her son needs her, and now there's a scandal coming that's bigger than the MS, because if it's true, he not only lied to the country, he lied to his wife. On Perm. Hiatus.
1. Mommy & Josh Time

Author: Regency  
  
Title: A Time For Joshua…Cregg?  
  
Season/Spoiler (s): I don't know. I guess you'll only know if you've seen the ep, right?  
  
Pairing: Can't think of anything  
  
Warning: If you can't stand a mother's love then…be gone.  
  
Disclaimer: So not mine. CJ belongs to Aaron Sorkin as do just about everyone (excluding Joshua Cregg) in this story.  
  
Summary: When her country's in turmoil, she doesn't blink, but when her son is miserable with a cold, she can't blink back the tears fast enough.  
  
Author's Notes: This has no basis on anything. I just had this thought and it stayed with me. Oh, and I can spell, but when you have a cold it doesn't matter, because nothing comes out right.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
CJ's POV  
  
*ACHOO!* *ACHOO!* *ACHOO!*  
  
I look up from my current White House report at the familiar and worrying sound. I push up my pajama sleeve to look at my watch to see that it's 11:30. Dear God, what was he still doing up?  
  
I get up from the spot I've been occupying in front of the CNN tuned TV to walk to the little hall leading to where Joshua's room is.  
  
"Joshua…baby? You okay, there?" The only response is another long string of miserable-sounding *achoos* from the almost completely dark room. The only light to be seen is the nightlight on the nightstand, slightly illuminating a pale face framed with light brownish-red hair and freckles.  
  
I come all the way in and hit the light switch to the left of the door absently as I'm already on my way to my son's side. I can't help, but be stopped cold at the abject misery on my son's normally bright face. His poor little nose is red and his beautiful eyes are puffy.  
  
"Baby…what's wrong." He rubs his eyes roughly, obviously trying to lose the grit, so he can see me better.  
  
"Mysh nose's all 'tuffy an 'ticky. Mysh eyes are puffy an' iscky. An' mysh het hur's bommy. An' I's rewwly hoth." It's kind of hard to tell which mispronunciation are from his cold and which are from his missing teeth. I reach up to rest my hand on his forehead, confirming what he'd just told me. He has a pretty bad little fever it, felt like, and that was just one discomfort he had to suffer.  
  
"You want some medicine?" I could kick myself for that. Of course he doesn't want medicine. He was seven. What seven year-old wants medicine? Not mine. There was no protest from the bed and that immediately sets my mommy alert on high.  
  
"An' mysh bellys hur's" he adds almost as a painful afterthought. It takes all of my will not to run for the phone and call for an ambulance or worse…call Abbey Bartlet. *Shiver* The urge is there, but I am the mother, therefore I won't.  
  
I decide to ask again. "You want some medicine, baby?" With a painfully ineffectual sniffle, he nodded. "Okay, honey, hold on." I get to the door and turn around. "Bubble gum, grape, or cherry?" I watch him make that face of concentration I love so much as he contemplates his choices.  
  
"Chewwy with gwapemelon gewwo pweese." I nod and smile as I head to the kitchen with a detour at the bathroom to get a washcloth and the thermometer. He's so good at getting things he wasn't offered that he could take my job and do it quite successfully.  
  
Coming back form the kitchen, I see Josh struggling to get comfortable on his (in this case) not comfortable enough bed. I stop in the doorway as he struggles for comfort and listen to his battle for breath.  
  
"Hey, little one, what's up? Why we doing the caterpillar?" If I'd though he was miserable before, he looks down right harassed now.  
  
"I's canth breve." His eyes were watery. He's crying. God, what's wrong with my baby? Suddenly the room I picked especially for him seems too little, too suffocating for this little boy with a big smile. Putting down all of the things I picked up on his desk, I walk to the side of the bed and put my arms out to him. He reaches up and wraps his arm around my neck. Sliding an arm under his knees, I pull him off the bed and hold him close, smelling the L'Oreal Kids: No tangles, no tears shampoo and the grapemelon jello I'd given him for desert in his hair. How it got there, I doubt I'll ever know.  
  
"You're gonna come stay in my room tonight, 'kay, babe?" I feel his soft hair shift against my neck as he nods. I hoist him up a bit higher before starting the short trek to my much bigger bedroom.  
  
I lay him down on my soft, beige comforter and walk around the bed to pull down the second bedsheet so that he could lie under the light cover. I walk back around to pick him up again. Laying him on the turned down side, I pull the sheet up to his waist so he wouldn't overheat. By then his head had a light sheen of perspiration covering his pale forehead. Remembering the things I left in his room, I jog back to get them. Standing alone in his room, I realize that without his seething fever beneath my fingers the room was almost dead cold. That does not inspire any confidence in me right now.   
  
I shake off those thoughts and hurried back to Josh who was starting to toss around again. I snap my fingers as I realize something I should have remembered at the beginning: Vick's Vapor Rub. Hello! CJ, where was your head? Again, putting down the retrieved items, I take off for the bathroom. Opening the cabinet over the sink, I find what I'm looking for and am happy to find the jar brand new. Way to go CJ! Okay, enough self-praise, back to the little guy.  
  
I sit down beside him on the bed and gently stroke his face. He opens his bleary eyes to look me vaguely. "Okay, I need you to sit up for me. Can you do that?" He nods and gives a meek attempt at it before I assist. Resting him against me, I open the cough syrup first and pour it into that little plastic cup it comes with. I watch him cringe as it goes down with difficulty. Opening jello one handed is a serious hassle, but I manage. Using a spoon, I help him with the first slurp of jello. His breathing is still labored and I tell him to lay back down. He does so, uncharacteristically. Don't get me wrong. He's a good boy, but he can't follow an order from hell. That he got from his dad.  
  
I undo the top three buttons of his shirt. I open the jar and I see him already start to breathe easier. With a severely icked look, I stick my finger in the gooey stuff and gently smather it over my son's little chest until it's absorbed into his skin. I watch his face for a moment to see if I can detect a change. His eyes open up and to prove he's feeling a bit better, he takes a great big breath and then proceeds to basically cough up a lung. Not quite up to snuff yet.  
  
I reach up and ruffle his hair gently. "You're not quite your old self yet, babe, but you're getting there." I lean down and kiss his forehead. He sniffles a bit with an agreeing smile. There's that gap I love so much. " All right, guy, sleepy time." His eyes protest before he can even speak. I just give him the patented 'mommy look' I've looked forward to giving since I was just a girl myself. He immediately backs down, but there's defiance in that surrender. It's definitely conditional.  
  
"Only if you shtay with me." He's getting better, but some of that lisp I recognize.  
  
"Okay, but when I come back it's straight to sleep mister. For *both* of us." He wrinkles his nose, but acquiesces. I retrace my steps and return everything to it's place. On the way back I turn off the CNN for a change; something I never do. It's always been background noise to help me sleep, but tonight the only noise I need is going to be right next to me.  
  
I fold down the covers and slip into the bed. Josh instinctively cuddles up to me. I slide my arms around him and whisper "Good night, babe."  
  
"Night, momma." Before I close my eyes, I see the digital clock next to the bed flashing 2:35. Time sure goes fast when you're worried about your son. Just as I doze off, I think I hear a phone, but I ignore it. If the world *outside* is coming to the end, what could I possibly do about it? Because as far I'm concerned, my world exists completely within these walls, no within these sheets…my arms. The world had had its time today . Now was a time for Joshua…  
  
and he has much more time on the books than the world.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`  
  
I hope you guys like it. It took me about four hours, but *shrug*…it's done. Read & review please. Thanks. 


	2. Out of Bed, Sick as Hell

Author: Regency  
  
Title: Out of Bed, Sick As Hell  
  
Season/Spoiler (s): I don't know. I guess you'll only know if you've seen the ep, right?  
  
Pairing: Can't think of anything  
  
Warning: If you can't stand a mother's love then…be gone.  
  
Disclaimer: So not mine. CJ belongs to Aaron Sorkin as do just about everyone (excluding Joshua Cregg) in this story.  
  
Summary: When her country's in turmoil, she doesn't blink, but when her son is miserable with a cold, she can't blink back the tears fast enough.  
  
Author's Notes: This has no basis on anything. I just had this thought and it stayed with me. Oh, and I can spell, but when you have a cold it doesn't matter, because nothing comes out right.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
*ACHOO!* *ACHOO!* *ACHOO!*  
  
Turning over in bed, I know immediately no one's going anywhere today. Is he sneezing or am I? The bed jumps lightly next to me. Well, that answers that question. At least, I'm not sick. *ACHOO!* Okay, so maybe I spoke too soon, but who knew?  
  
Anyway, top priority: Assess the munchkin.  
  
I push up in the bed and turn to look where Josh should be laying (lying?), but he isn't there. I look around the room. Nope, no Joshua. Hmmm. I throw back the covers and stumble out of bed. I could have sworn he was here a moment ago. He's never where he should be and always where he shouldn't be.  
  
I stick my head into the hall, expecting to find him outside my or his door, but he isn't there. I bite my lip and head up the hall to his room.  
  
And what do you know? It's the munchkin himself, actually trying to get dressed for school and *ACHOO*-ing the whole way through. In the room I can, through my own stuffy nose, catch a slight whiff of his bubble-gum flavored toothpaste and the lotion that I make him put on for his dry skin. His hair is brushed into some chaos-theory semblance of order, but at least he made an effort, given the fact that he's at the age where he's starting to hate going to school. He does it because I tell him it would make me happy and he hasn't started to hate me yet, so that still makes a difference. I'm proud, but now it's time to teach him a careful lesson. Sometimes it's okay to not go to school, especially if you're sick. I must be careful in how I teach this. Or he'll never get out of bed in the mornings on account of a stomach ache. Hell, I'd never get out of bed on account of a stomach ache.  
  
Speaking of, you know, not getting out of bed, I need to call in and let Leo know I'm not gonna be in today. I can't leave Josh here sick and I can't lead a briefing feeling like this. My normal defenses aren't up. I need them up, otherwise I run the risk of another Haiti screw up, though most of that screw-up wasn't on my part. Mine was just the more publicized of the many.  
  
Anyway, time to put this little guy back to bed. I walk fully into the room.  
  
"Hey, babe. Watcha doin'?" He stops buttoning up his shirt to look at me.  
  
"Getting weady for school." I 'ah' and nod. I plop down tiredly onto his bed and watch his as he reaches for his sweater.  
  
" You don't need to. You're not going." I barely hold back a chuckle as he looks up to me, almost hopefully. He really doesn't want to go. I know the feeling. He looks slightly suspicious. The only times he's ever managed to evade school has been when he's been sick and has had to go to the doctor. Well, there's no doctor this time, unless you count Abbey whose still on mental speed-dial as we speak.   
  
"Why not?" Why not, he asks. I love this kid.   
  
"Why not?" I mimic him. He doesn't care for this. "I thought you'd be happy." He shakes his head hard. I can see a brain rush coming. His or mine is hard to tell. My sympathy pains are up.  
  
"Not if I have to see the doctor. I don't like the doctor. He has needles." Let's just say: him, needles, and white lab coats are a bad combination. There always ends up being an excessive amount of bloodshed involved and not all his. Some of it mine. Some of it the doctor's. None of it painless or really the little guy's fault. He just really dislikes needles. Now, he's not afraid of them *per se*, but he does not like them at all. At least that's what he says. But he's a guy, plain and simple. I don't exactly expect him to be completely truthful about it.  
  
"There's no doctor, sweetie."  
  
"Then, why can't I go to school and why aren't you going to work?"  
  
"'Cause, hon, I really don't feel that good and I know you don't either. So go ahead and get undressed. We're staying in. Is that okay?" He nods. I get up to help him get his sweater off when it gets stuck over his head. I ruffle his hair and kiss his temple. "Call me if you need some help. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." His response is muffled as he struggles to get his undershirt off. I shake my head and head for the kitchen.  
  
I lean tiredly against the kitchen counter and cover my mouth in a yawn. I reach for the phone and dial the numbers I know by heart. The phone rings a few times before Leo picks up. I have his direct number. Do not pass the switchboard, do not pass Margaret. Go straight to Leo.  
  
"Leo McGarry." He's not a hello person, even on a good day.  
  
"Leo, it's C. J." I hear him twist around to look at the clock on his wall, even though he wears a perfectly good Rolex around his wrist. It's an incredulity thing.  
  
"Claudia Jean, where are you? We have staff in thirty minutes and as far as I know you're not here yet."  
  
"I'm sorry, Leo, but there's no way I could possibly come in today. I'm sneezing, sniffling, my nose is either stuffed or runny; it has yet to decide, and my head feels like it weighs more than you do."  
  
"How would you know how much I weigh?" I shrug, though I know he can't see me.  
  
"I'm guessing, but if my head's any indication, one word: SLIMFAST, my friend. It's the only way."  
  
"Ha ha, I almost forgot how funny you were. Anyway, I'll see if I can get Josh to cover for you." I almost choke on my newly swallowed orange juice. Not Josh; anyone, but Josh. I look for somewhere to dump the excess juice dripping out of the side of my mouth. I lean over the sink and spit it out.  
  
"Josh, Josh!? What the hell are you…? Are you serious? No, Leo, are you *crazy*? Josh! You can't possibly mean Joshua "A Secret Plan to Fight Inflation" Lyman? I mean, Leo, come on. This is radical, even for you." Leo's getting either too amused for his own good or annoyed. Is there really much of a major distinction?   
  
"Well, what else am I supposed to do, C. J.? My Press Secretary is out sick. It's Josh or--"  
  
"Henry. What about Henry? He's my deputy. This is his job."  
  
"Yeah, I thought you knew." I close my eyes and let my head fall back. I never know until everyone else has known for a while.  
  
" Knew what, Leopold?" I try not to be disgusted or to sound that way. I don't think I'm too successful, though. Ah, well. You win some, you lose some.  
  
"He quit back before the third State of the Union. He jumped on a train with Will's speech-writing staff and headed to California to work with Sam."  
  
"And I didn't need to know this before?" No, of course I didn't. Do I ever need to know anything? I'm in luck if they'd tell me my own name if I asked.  
  
"I assumed that Will told you?"   
  
" You mean very temporary Seaborn replacement, Will Bailey, who wasn't there long enough to break in his new Armani suit?"  
  
"Yah, that's the one."  
  
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Nope, he didn't mention it."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Oh, my ass, Leo. He was barely past the Holy Line of Demarcation for more than three months before he was moved so far away couldn't even see the line anymore. I'm pretty sure, he thinks we've moved the White House to Dayton." Leo's laughing at me. Cute Leo, real cute. "I'm not kidding, Leo. He's that far away." He's really laughing up a storm there. He's kind of got a cute laugh, but anyway.  
  
His laughter finally subsides. "But really, CJ, you're needed here. I know you're sick, but if at any point today you can get here, please get here." Leo stops talking and I can hear Margaret in the background. Leo's back on. "CJ, you need to get here, please. You are *needed* now. And I mean *needed.*"  
  
"Okay, we'll see what bunnies I can pull out of my hat." *ACHOO* Yeah, that felt great. Where do I think I'm going today?  
  
"And CJ, you should probably take something for that. You sound terrible."  
  
"You really know how to charm a woman early in the morning." Coming a little late to the party there, Leo. But, as Sam said, "Let's ignore the fact that you're coming a little late to the party and embrace the fact that you showed up at all." I'm embracing, Leo. * Embracing.*  
  
"So, I've been told. Quite often, for future reference." Did I really need to know that? I don't think I did.  
  
"Thanks for that privileged information, Leopold. I was dying to know that. Really, I was."  
  
"See, Claudia Jean, I told you I could read your mind. I know what women want."  
  
"All right, Mel Gibson, I need to do a thing be done and then, we'll just see about my getting there later. Much later, if at all. And quit, you know, telling random people things they aren't all that interested in knowing."  
  
"Hey--!"  
  
"Ah, I gotta do the thing. Bye, Leo." I hang up before he can say anything else.  
  
How long did that go on for? I look to the clock. Ugh! A half of an hour. A half an hour? Where's Josh?  
  
"Hey, babe? You done yet?" There's no answer. "Babe?" I move back to the hall and call out again. "Joshua, baby?" I take two strides down the hall and lean into the door. I finally regain my lost breath. There he is.   
  
Josh is laying on his bed with his back to the door. The subtle compressive movements of his tiny body tell me he's already asleep. He didn't even manage to get all the way out of his clothes. He's got on a pajama top, but he's still wearing his uniform slacks for school. I just shake my head. I'll have to iron them for tomorrow.  
  
"Josh, babe. You gotta get outta the pants. " All he does is mumble. I look around for some way to get them off without waking the munchkin and find it quickly impossible. Looking at him again, I decide that there are other pants he can wear tomorrow. Besides, he's probably going to have to get up in a little bit, anyway. The least I can do is let him have this little bit of time to rest. With a kiss on the forehead, I head for the shower. I have to get ready for work…It looks like I'm going after all. Now, what do I do with Joshua?…This is not how I intended for this to come out.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
After a nice, leisurely shower, I start to dress in the everyday so-and-so, but decide to go a bit out. I pull out a black, pinstriped Armani suit, that I bought on a whim, and slip it on after applying a spray of "White Shoulders" here and there. What? I'm coming in on a sick day, with my sick child…Who should be staying home, like I intended. I'm wearing whatever the hell makes me feel better, which quite frankly happens to be, what I had on before.  
  
After sitting for a bagel and a glass of orange juice and making some waffles for Josh, it's time for aforementioned child to make his way out of bed. We have to go to the White House…Sometimes, I hate my job. I really do. Once, I've stalled as long as I think I can, I move down the hall and into the room. I sigh. I hate having to get him out of bed, but there's simply no one else.  
  
I lean over and gently shake his pajama'd shoulder and wait for him to stop groaning. I'm so going to be making this up to him over the weekend. Maybe, I can take him to see Dad. Even with…the thing, he and Dad are inseparable when they get together. He always remembers Josh and when he remembers Josh, he remembers me. Anyway, the grumbling's stopped, I give an apologetic look.  
  
"We have to go in to my job for a bit…I don't know for how long, but we really need to go. I know I said we could stay home and I really thought we could, but…we can't." He looks up at me with those eyes. He doesn't want to go, but he feels too bad to fight about it. Am I supposed to feel like I'm a terrible mother, because that's exactly how I feel?  
  
"Okay." He sighs a tiny sigh and pushes up off the bed. He goes back to his drawer and rummages around for something to wear.  
  
"You don't have to wear your school uniform to the White House. You can wear whatever…within reason." I don't often have to remind him what 'within reason' is, but sometimes…Boys will be boys.  
  
When I see that he's got the dressing under control, I move back to the living room to get my purse and unplug my cell As I move past the end table by the couch, the blinky light on my answering machine catches my eye. Great, I'm not even out the door yet and I've already got messages. I push the 'play' button.  
  
"You have three messages." Three? Since when? I just talked to Leo maybe forty-five minutes ago…Who the hell…?  
  
"Hey, CJ. It's Sam. Yeah, there's…a thing. I know you're probably not even awake, seeing as I've called you five times and have to yet to get an answer, but anyway…There's a thing and we need you here…Please get here. Okay…bye." !Beep! It's just a beep with Sam.  
  
"Hey, CJ. It's Toby. As I'm sure you know, there's…a thing. Yeah, a thing and we need you, so if you could, you know, get here; that'd be nice. Get here. Please, if it makes you feel better." !Beep! Man, even his beep is depressing.  
  
"Hello, CJ. It's the President. As I'm sure you've been told by now, there's a bit of a…situation here. Claudia Jean, we have a problem. You're the one we need, right here. Get here as soon as you can. Thanks, see you when you get here." !Beep! and that's one hell of a beep.  
  
Okay, I need to get to work. I get this. Do I need any further proof? *RING RING* I contemplate answering, but decide to just let it go to the machine.  
  
"CJ, get your ass here! Now!" Well, I didn't need any, but I got it. Since when does the President say 'ass'?  
  
It's time for 'babe' to get out of bed, now! I put down my cell and purse and take a few strides to the end of the hall.  
  
"Hey, babe, I need you to double-time it. We need to go. Hurry, please." I hear a whole lot more grumbling…and a thud. I wince, sympathetically. He was hopping around, trying to get into his jeans and stubbed his toe on the bedpost. Like the President said, " I shouldn't do things when I'm angry." Neither should Josh.  
  
My mother's instinct wins out and I go to the door. He's sitting on the bed rubbing his big toe that I can all, but see throbbing from the doorway. He's biting his bottom lip and his green eyes are shining. It must hurt pretty bad, if he's close to crying. I move over and crouch down in front of him. I gently take his little foot in my hand and give it a look-see. His toe is pretty badly cut. Just under the nail; from there to the middle of the toe. I hiss and look up at that melancholy countenance. He can really do damage to himself, can't he?  
  
"Stay here." Like he's going somewhere. "I'll get some stuff for that." I leave and go to the bathroom. I've been spending a lot of time in there lately.   
  
Coming back to the room, I sit next Josh and help him turn around to rest his leg on my lap. Very carefully, I pour a little alcohol on the cut and hold his leg steady as it spasms from the burning.  
  
"Sorry, babe. I know it hurts, but I gotta do it." He sits there with his eyes closed. He's breathing's a little iffy. "Take a minute…Ya got it?" He opens his eyes and nods. I think I've well taught him the reality of necessary evils.  
  
I pour a little more on it, and this time take his hand when he whimpers. I hate it when he hurts. I mean, I know any mother hates it when her child hurts, but I *really* hate it.  
  
When I'm sure he's caught his breath, I tear open the *Ninja Turtles* band-aid I brought and wrap it gently around the big toe. I look up from the delicate procedure to see him sitting there with his eyes squeezed shut in silent torment. He really doesn't like blood or wounds. Well, I know he won't be a surgeon. That's one wish gone ungranted.  
  
I give my watch an absent glance. We need to be out of the door already. I press a hand to his cheek to get him to look at me. He's still warm. Great, he's still got a fever. He so does not need to be out there. He presses a hand to my cheek. I know, I know. I don't either. I give the foot another glance.  
  
"Can you walk on that foot?" He shrugs. My son is the prince of non-answers. I, of course, am the queen though. It's only natural. "Can you try for me?" He gives a little nod. With a little help from me, he hops down onto his good foot. With a pensive glance at me, he puts his other foot down and takes a few cautious steps, keeping a firm hold on me the whole way. At first, all goes well until the fourth step back. He pulls his foot up with a hiss and a 'mommy.'  
  
Okay, that's out. I pick him up and sit him back on the bed. It looks like I'm carrying him, which is fine, if we can get out of here right now.  
  
"Okay, put your socks on…I'll carry you to the car. But, babe we gotta go now." He nods and starts with the other foot. I wait by the door and do a mental inventory of the things I'll need to keep him occupied for the remainder of the day. Snacks. Gameboy. A blanket and a pillow in case he wants a nap. Yeah, he'll want a nap. In case he falls asleep. There are blankets in my office already…Books for when I need him to be quiet. "Babe, where's your backpack?" He points to the back of his desk chair. I pick it up and open it. I take a look inside and it already has some paper and colors in it. I need to get the other stuff. "Where's your Gameboy?" He looks around before pointing to the top of his dresser. Ah, of course, why didn't I see that? I grab it and stick it inside. "What games do you want?" He shrugs. I just pick three at random and put them in the front compartment of the pack. "What snacks do you want to take with you?" He gives it some thought.  
  
"Gwapemelon jello…and some chewy bars." I suspected the jello. This obsession with jello is a little worrying.  
  
"What do you want to drink?"  
  
"Fwuit punch." Fruit punch it is then.  
  
"Be right back." I head out and back to the kitchen to get the requested snacks.  
  
I come back in and lean against the desk while he works on getting the left shoe on. He's wincing the whole way.  
  
"Don't worry about the shoes for now…We'll take care of those later. What books do you want?" He gives it a bit of consideration. I give him a moment. He's no slouch in the reading department. Who knows what he'll come up with?  
  
"I want 'The Runaways' and 'The Dark Stairs,' please." I nod and smile. I'm almost surprised he didn't say Shakespeare's "A Midsummer's Night Dream." Like I said he's no slouch.  
  
Getting the indicated books, I'm set to go. Now, I'm just waiting for him.  
  
"I'm ready."   
  
"'Kay. " I walk over and put my arms out. He wraps his arms around me and away we go.  
  
Damn. I almost forgot my keys.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
After a little difficulty getting past security, we're here. Josh is asleep in my arms; he hasn't woken up since I got him out of the car. I think that second dose of medicine I gave him has started to kick in.  
  
His head is resting in the crook of my shoulder; his arms hanging loosely around my neck. He trusts in me enough not to drop him. I can tell by the elevation of activity in the bullpen that briefing has either already started or is about to start. I need to get in there…But what to do with Josh? I see Carol.  
  
"Carol? Carol, get over here." Carol looks up from her task and sees me. She's up in seconds and headed my way.  
  
"CJ, where've you been? Do you have any idea what's been going on while you were out?" I shake my head. I need her not talking.  
  
"No, no idea. Look, I need to be filled in quickly so that I can do the briefing. Here, take Josh and put him in my office. There's a pillow in the backpack and an afghan on the couch. Cover him with it. Put the trashcan next to him, in case he gets sick. There are some snacks in his bag, in case he gets hungry. There are crackers in the front. Even if he isn't hungry, have him eat those or at least, try to. That's it, now, where do I need to be?" I just handed Josh to Carol and her eyes are wide and she looks confused. " Okay, Carol, I need you to dig in…Where do I need to be?" She blinks and shakes her head.  
  
"Leo's office. The whole Senior Staff's there." I nod, and after turning back to give Josh a kiss and to ruffle his hair, I take off for Leo's office.  
  
I knock and hear a "come in." I stick my head in a bit before coming all the way in. Carol was right. They're all here. Sam, who just came back , and Josh are sitting on either side of the round table. Donna's leaning against the wall by the door. Toby, with his normal gloom included, is standing just to the right of the Leo's desk, by the connecting door to the Oval Office.  
  
"CJ, glad that you could find time in your busy schedule to join us." I really want to whack Toby upside the head, but I fear the harbingers of his doomdom would whack back at me. I think I'm severely outnumbered anyway, so I just send him an unimpressed glare. Jackass.  
  
"Leave her alone, Toby. We should be glad that she showed up at all. She was sick this morning. Was ready to call in and everything. You should be thanking her and you will be. Just not right now. CJ, have a seat." I look around. There's no where to sit. Leo notices. " Josh, get up and let CJ have your seat."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"Because, she's sick, I'm your boss, and I said so." Josh does a great fish impression. If I felt better, I'm sure I'd laugh.  
  
Josh, mumbling the whole way, relinquishes his seat and I sit down.  
  
"Where am I supposed to sit, now." Hey, there's a couch behind the Tobygloom. How about there?  
  
"How about the couch, Joshua?" He he Sarcastic Leo is funny.  
  
"I thought that was just for the people you liked." Way to single yourself out there Josh.  
  
"You're right, I forgot. CJ, sit over here. Josh can have his seat back." I get up and plop down on the couch. I like this seat much better.  
  
After we're all settled again, we start.  
  
"What's been happening while I've been gone?" They all give me long-suffering looks. Hey, I don't know. Someone's got to tell me.  
  
"Well, it all started with a press conference the President held right after he took office the first time around." I nod to show I follow. " He said that he wouldn't be here if it wasn't for his girls. His wife and his *four* daughters." I blink. There was something there. I can tell, but I'm pretty groggy. They're going to have to spell this out for me. "*Four* daughters, CJ. There are only three to my knowledge. Three: Liz, Ellie, and Zoey. So we need to know…Was it a slip of the tongue…or a Freudian slip?"  
  
God, I should've stayed in bed this morning. But, no I'm out of bed, sick as hell, and stuck with this…Mr. President, what have you done, now? 


	3. A Scandal In The Making

Author: Regency

Title: A Scandal In The Making

Season/Spoiler (s): I don't know. I guess you'll only know if you've seen the ep, right?

Pairing: Can't think of anything

Warning: If you can't stand a mother's love then…be gone.

Disclaimer: So not mine. CJ belongs to Aaron Sorkin as do just about everyone (excluding Joshua Cregg) in this story.

Summary: Her country needs her, her son needs her, and now there's a scandal coming that's bigger than the MS, because if it's true, he not only lied to his country, he lied to his wife.  
Author's Notes: This has no basis on anything. I just had this thought and it stayed with me. Oh, and I can spell, but when you have a cold it doesn't matter, because nothing comes out right. And there's no Toby hate here. She loves him…maybe.

CJ's POV

I shake my head. This is just…this is just no way. Our President…Josiah Bartlet, a cheater, an infidel? No, we vetted the man. There are no other children…I mean, I don't think there are. Four daughters…three daughters? Could we have read four, but only seen three and not been the wiser. I mean, could we? It's a one daughter difference. One more daughter than Abbey has.

I look at them with a stunned expression. Toby looks all, you know, gloomy and irritable. So basically, normal.

"Hey, CJ, you know, get with it."

"Give her a minute. She's down today. I needed a minute, too." Thanks, Sam. I think I need an hour.

"How could we have missed this? " I hold my hands up like the Scale of Justice. " Three daughters…four daughters? That's…not the same."

"No crap, CJ. Yeah, three and four are a little different. Three means he's faithful and four, you know, doesn't." Why is he a pain in my ass? I really don't need this.

"What does the President have to say about this?"

" Basically, he says, "Fix this." That's about it."

"Who's making the accusation?"

"Mary Marsh." I drop my head back onto the couch. Who the hell else?

"What's she saying? Dear God, what's she not saying?"

"She's basically saying, you know, how can we stand behind this…infidel. Who, you know, preaches this and that, but does not practice what he preaches and some other biblical whatever such as that."

"Thank you, Toby, I understand the situation so much better now." I turn back to Leo. "Leo, is she saying something like that? Because if she is, we're okay, 'cause no one understands her, anyway."

"No, unfortunately, she was a bit clearer than that, but, you know, whatever." We just look at him. "Okay, guys, we need to fix this. If there's another girl, we need to find her and vet her and get her ready. But first, we need to find out the whole story. Is there even another daughter?" Oh, God, does Abbey know?

"Does the First Lady know yet?" Leo looks at all of us.

"I'm guessing she's found out about it since last night. It was on CNN and all. If it was the President that told her, that I don't know." Okay, I'm going to assume we don't have the First Lady on our side here.

"So, we're going to assume we don't have the First Lady with us, for the moment. I'm thinking she's going to need some time. Even if it all turns out to be false. She's going to do her Manchester thing and we need to get ready to spin why she isn't at his side."

"We don't know that."

"From past experience, Leo. Yeah, we do." I'll never call her a coward, but she has a tendency to be late to the party.

"Okay, okay. Yeah, we're going to go with that. She's probably gonna--yah. Okay, we have a problem. It really didn't look this bad before you got here, CJ."

"Sorry, Leo. "

"Don't worry about it. Just, you know, fix this."

"Guys, what proof did she give? You can't just come out calling the President a cheater willy-nilly with no proof. She's got to have something on him." God, please let her have nothing.

" She's got pictures, CJ." I sit forward on the couch.

"Pictures of what? Pictures of the President and another woman? A child? Who, what?"

" A child, no children. Zoey and this girl, and her mother. She produced a picture and it just so happened that the President had a matching one in his wallet, exactly where she said he would." I press my fingers to my forehead. Her mother--Oh, God, another family.

"She isn't accusing him of bigamy, too, is she?" Not like that's somehow worse or better.

"Not so far, but don't put it past her." I shake my head. This is surreal.

"Okay, um, is he denying this? What's he saying?"

Sam uncrosses his arms and shakes his head. " That's just it, he's not saying anything. He's not confirming or denying. He's just telling us to fix it. We don't even know what 'it' is. Just that we're somehow supposed to fix 'it'."

"Okay, then we need to fix it. " They all give me varying shades of grey looks. "It's our job, good or bad. We fix it. He doesn't have to tell us anything he doesn't want to."

"Actually, I think I do." The voice comes from behind me and I jump up to face him. He's standing there with his hands stuffed in his pocket. The pinched look on his face gives evidence of a hard night and little sleep. I'm guessing he's gone quite a few rounds with the First Lady, already. "You've all been there for me and I can't do to you what I've done in the past, not this time. You have questions, ask 'em." We all look at each other and hesitate to ask the question on all our minds.

Donna steps forward from her sentry position by the door and raises her hand.

"Excuse me, Mr. President."

"Go ahead, Donna."

"Mr. President, do you have another daughter? I mean, I think you do, but you don't. Am I right?" He nods after a moment.

"Yeah, you got it right." It's good that she's got it, 'cause I've got nothing.

"Um, sir, what does she have, because I have, well, nothing?"

"I've got a daughter, who isn't, but you're going to have to convince people of that."

"What?" He nods to Donna to explain.

"His _other _daughter isn't. She's his daughter in every way he cares about, but not biologically. He's probably raised her her whole life and loved her just as long. She's probably in his will, but she isn't his daughter. They probably aren't even related--" He stops her there.

"She is related to me. She's my second cousin, my cousin, Andrew's daughter. "

"What does he think of you taking care of his daughter in his place?"

"He doesn't think anything, because he honestly doesn't care. He didn't care when her mother was pregnant and he didn't care when his daughter graduated from high school. He didn't take her to her junior and senior prom and he didn't go on the fourth-grade father/daughter trip with her. I did that. I did his job and I did it gladly." Okay, I can spin this. This I can spin. And I heave an internal sigh of relief. Thank God.

"Mr. President, Mary Marsh has produced several pictures of you, the girl--"

"Gillian." I nod.

"Gillian, her mother, and Zoey. Why is Zoey in the picture?"

"I introduced them to each other. They hit it off."

"Does Zoey know they're…sisters?"

"Yeah, I told her. She adored her."

"Do they still speak?"

"Now that, I don't know. There's about four years between them so eventually I'm sure they drifted apart and I stopped bringing them together when Zoey started middle school. I don't know why I did that." He sounds introspective, so we all sit there and wait for him to come back to us.

"You mean, they met when they were young?" God, now it looks like this has been going on for years. Hell, it has been going on for years.

"Yeah, I had a thing in Louisiana, where they live, when Zoey was six and Gilli was two. That's when I introduced them. They stayed close until Zoey was eleven and Gilli was seven. Like I said, I stopped taking her over there."

"Is there anyone who can corroborate that?" He shrugs.

"Lindy, Gilli's mother, can, but I don't think you want to take her word for it." No, I'm thinking not.

"Anyone…with less of a stake in…this thing?"

"Zoey's third grade teacher, maybe. I brought Gilli there a few times. It's funny. No one ever mentioned Gilli to Abbey. That's just ironic to me." I'm sure it is. Ironic, ha.

We all sit in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts, not sure what to say next. There's a knock on the door and Carol sticks her head in. Hey, Carol. Save me. She looks around the office for a second before finding me.

" C. J. , could you come back to your office? Josh is getting sick and I think he's got a fever. I tried to get him to eat the crackers, but they won't stay down. I don't know what to do." I'm already halfway out of the door, before she finishes her uneasy tirade.

"Did you take his temperature?"

"I didn't find a thermometer in his bag. I felt his head and he felt hot to me. Then, I tried to get him to eat the crackers and after a little battling, he did. But then, he just started getting sick. C. J. , did I do something to make him sick?" I shake my head as we power-walk through the bullpen.

"It probably wasn't you; he's been sick since last night, we both have. I'm sure he'll be fine." We arrive in my office to see my son shivering on the couch, on top of the afghan. His skin is even further off-color and his green eyes seem to glow against his pallid skin. I feel my heart breaking all over again.

I sit down beside him on the couch and press a palm against his forehead. He's literally burning up. " Wow, sweetheart, you could fry an egg on your head. You're burning up. How do you feel?" He writhes around uncomfortably, but doesn't answer. He doesn't have to. "Are you cold?" He shakes his head, adamantly.

"I's hot." I nod even though I'd be shivering if it weren't for my coat. He's shivering, but he's hot. Wonderful. I sigh I wish there was something I could do for him. I can't give him anymore medicine yet, and he's so miserable. I gently stroke his hair and cheek, giving him what little comfort I can until the medicine either kicks in or wears off. He leans into my cool hands with his eyes closed. I press a soft kiss to his forehead and kneel down at his side for easier access to him.

I'm so completely focused on my son that I don't even notice the rest of the senior staff standing at my office door watching me tend to my boy. Even, if I did; I don't care. Let them watch.

I don't see them push Toby forth to ask me the question I've been waiting for. I don't see them at all.

"So, C. J. , who's the, uh, little guy?" I take a breath and turn to Toby, who just stands there with his hands stuck in his pockets.

"This is Josh--" He begins to cough violently and suddenly, Toby is the last thing on my mind. I help him sit up and rub his back. With my free arm, I pick up his backpack and rifle through it. I find the bottle of water that I stuck in there on impulse and try to engineer a way to get it open with just one hand. "Toby, feel free to, you know, offer assistance." He kneels down next to me on the floor.

"What can I help with?" I hand him the bottle.

"Get this open." Seems simple enough. He doesn't realize it, but this little thing is a big help to me. I'll have to properly thank him later. He hands the uncapped bottle back and I press it to Josh's lips and hope that he doesn't choke while I have my hands full. Thankfully, he drinks carefully and the coughing fit eases. I can finally breathe again. I hold him close. "A little better, munchkin?" He nods, still too weak to speak. I know he's still not himself, because he normally morally opposes being referred to as munchkin. Well, tough cookies. "Okay, well, do you think you can manage to get back to sleep without me or do you want me to stay for awhile?" He looks up at me indecisively. I need to go, but if he needs me, I'm not going anywhere.

"I t'ink I can 'o back to thleep, but you gosta visit me." I smile, of course I'll visit.

"Okay, babe. Carol will be watching you, at least, until after the press briefing. Then, I'll be back and we'll see about the rest of the day." I adjust him so that he's back to lying solely on the couch, with the afghan around his waist. I muss his hair, affectionately. I love him so much.

"Otay." He sneezes and flops back miserably. It would be funny, if it wasn't so damned pathetic.

"Bless you, there Sneezy. Be careful before you sneeze your little nose off." He sticks his tongue out at me. I stick mine right back. I almost forgot that there was anyone else in the room. Josh and I must be a sight to see. I look up and there's the President and the rest of the senior staff along with just about everyone else, hanging around outside my door. I raise an eyebrow and several are raised in return. It's safe to say I'm outnumbered.

"So, C. J. , about my question from earlier…" There, Toby kind of trails off obscurely.

"Why don't you ask the little person on the couch who, though you may have your doubts, is not a string-puppet?" Toby's dark eyes flit from me to Josh with extreme suspicion. He stuffs his hands deeper into his pockets and rocks on his heels slightly.

"So, you are…who?" Josh looks at him with extreme caution. He looks to me. He knows not to talk to strangers. I've taught him well. I'll be damned if my son will become a statistic. I nod, go ahead.

"I'm Thosh." There goes that lisp again. I hope they don 't think I've named my son Thosh. "Who 're 'ou?" I think I hear a silent _and why do I care_ tacked on to the end of that. Toby looks confounded. Yes, confounded. Does he not understand? The Communicator cannot communicate. I wanna laugh, but I fear the harbingers might come after me, so I remain quiet.

"I'm Toby…I work at the White House." Well, that must have been hard to figure, Tobus. I mean, I bet he assumed that you were just visiting in your work suit.

"Otay." He doesn't care anymore and looks at everyone else hanging by the door. His eyes widen at the sight of the President. He's heard a lot about him, but he's never seen him in person. It's never bothered me before, but now I feel like I've deprived him of something, of some experience, a milestone. I think I have.

"Josh, I'd like you to meet my boss, Leo McGarry." He nods at the man, respectfully. I think Leo scares him. "That's Sam Seaborn, the Deputy Communications Director. So, basically, he just writes stuff."

"Hey!" I grin and ignore him.

"That's Joshua Lyman, the Deputy White House Chief of Staff. He's the one that struts." Josh grins. The other Josh looks indignant, but doesn't deny it. I knew he wouldn't. "And last, but not at least is…" I trail off, trying to figure out a duly respectful way to introduce him. I look at the President and he nods, giving me the okay to do what I was going to do anyway. "This is Josiah Bartlet, my big boss, the President of the United States." The President fairly beams, because he's just that way and Josh looks less nervous, even a little brighter. "Mr. President, everybody, this is my son, Joshua Cregg. Sorry, he's a little under the weather right now." They all stand there with gaping faces, looking between me and Josh at varying intervals of incredulity. The President is the first to snap out of it.

"Well, C. J. , seems like I'm not the only one suffering from Sins of Omission Syndrome. These extra children…just keep on popping up out of nowhere." He stands there and for a moment I think he might yell at me, but it passes as quickly as it came and the sunny man I know is back. "But that doesn't mean we love them any less. " He comes over and kneels beside me to talk directly to Josh. "Welcome to the family, Josh. You're going to love it here." He gently musses his hair and gives a grandfatherly kiss on the forehead, no doubt checking his temperature clandestinely. I know the routine. I'm a parent too. "Yeah, you've got a bit of a fever there." To my surprise, he reaches up and presses the back of his hand to my cheek. "You're not too well either, Claudia Jean. What in the world are you doing here, either of you? You should be at home, in bed, reading a book. And you…" He points to Josh. "should be watching cartoons or whatever people your age do when they don't go to school." I blush self-consciously.

"I know, sir, and we were going to stay home, but I got several urgent messages that said that I was needed here. So, we came here." I can feel his gaze change from concerned to guilty and I wish I'd never said anything. He has enough to feel guilty about right now.

"Oh, C. J. , you need to be at home. Thanks to you, we've got this in the bag,. You don't need to worry about this." I see Toby and Josh start to make tentative objections.

"Actually, Mr. President, we kind of do need her to worry…" Josh realizes quickly that he's being ignored and stops talking.

"She can't go home yet; we've still got this thing waiting for us in the Press Room." The President determinedly ignores him too, but Toby will not be silenced…unfortunately for the rest of us.

"I know that, Toby, but if C. J. 's not at her best, then she can't be expected to defend herself or anyone else from whatever might come her way in there. I'm not going to send her into a sandstorm without her being prepared to face it. All she needs to be concerned about right now is getting well and getting her son well. If anyone has any objections to this, speak now or forever shut the he--ck up." I admittedly snicker as he sneaks a glance at my son, who looks at him with a knowing glance. He's heard me curse enough to know what the President meant to say. The President reddens a little before clearing his throat and trying to regain his dignity at being caught out by a seven year-old. "Are there any objections?" No one says anything. They do share a lot of looks though. I think I'm going to be getting a lot of calls tonight. "I didn't think there were, so if we could get back to me for a moment, it would be appreciated. Yeah, okay, fine. C. J. , would you mind too much if we needed you to stay just for the briefing? I swear, as soon as it was over you could go home. You wouldn't even have to come in tomorrow." There are more protests from the peanut gallery. "You would not!" He says overtaking them in volume and authority. They get the message and shut up. I smile at their shunted faces.

"You'd have to ask Josh, sir. He's the one who's really sick here." The President looks back to the little guy who's watching us with groggy, but rapt attention.

"Josh, I know you must feel pretty bad, but I really need your mommy with me today. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, do you think I could have her today if I promised that you could have her all to yourself tomorrow?" It's an unbelievable sight to watch the President ask this little boy if he could borrow his mother for a little while. I'm gonna remember this for years, I know I will. Josh takes a moment to think about it. He's nothing, but a ham.

"It wou' be fhine, Mr. President. As wong as 'ou gib her back." His eyes are steely, almost like that's a deal breaker. The President puts on an appropriately solemn face.

"Of course, I'll give her back. I would hate if I was sick and somebody stole my mommy. I would never dream of keeping her away from you." Josh still looks suspicious, but I see that look that says, _I'm trusting you to take good care of her, don't let me down._ I grin. He's so overprotective. The President puts a hand out. "Do we have a deal?" Josh looks at the hand and then at the President. He takes the hand and gives it a firm shake.

"Deal." There we go. Two of my favorite guys are bonding, over me, yes, but that's not the point. They're bonding. Now, to get everyone else involved.

"Well, now that there's a price on C. J.'s head , could we possibly get back to work?" I glare at him. It's just like him to kill a sweet moment. He's so damned Toby.

"Yes, Toby, we can get back to work. Not that there's much left to do anyway. C. J. will do the briefing and go home. Hopefully, this whole mess will be back page news by the end of next week." He sounds weary and it breaks my heart, because I don't think it's going to be that simple.

Josh sniffles a little and starts to nod off. He's still off-color. I know it's probably just a childhood cold, but a mother with one child can never be too sure. The President turns back to me to say something.

"C. J. , since I wasn't there for the real thing; this will have to do: Congratulations! It's a boy!" He leans up slightly and gently kisses me on the cheek. I blush a little. He can be so adorable, and I'm not talking about Josh.

I hope and pray and this turns out well, because we can't survive another censure and without Abbey, this'll be hell. I smile at my son, who doesn't understand that the people he is talking to, the things that he's in the middle of…This whole is a scandal in the making. And when it blows up, none of us may get out alive…May God have mercy on us all.


End file.
